


Good Marks

by Familiae



Series: It's just a matter of falling apart [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Fluff, Gags, M/M, Public Sex, Puppy Play, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 01:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21347707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Familiae/pseuds/Familiae
Summary: Markus finds a part-time job in a café. Marcos helps him get settled in.
Series: It's just a matter of falling apart [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1445752
Kudos: 2





	1. Crepe Batter

“I’m sorry ma'am, but I’m pretty sure we’re ou—”

“Could you check out back?” the woman turned back to look over her shoulder, desperate. The child before her—a brat of maybe six or seven years—screeched about wanting strawberries with the crepes. It was a popular ingredient, and yesterday’s afternoon and nightly workers had completely forgotten to report we were low on stock—either fresh or frozen. The morning shift had passed without incident, so no notice had been taken. As a result, we were out.

Neither myself, Marcos, or Kate could leave the shop to buy any either—not without risking getting completey chewed out. The boss might be understanding enough, but during rush hour, when the kids were out of school and everyone pining for a snack clustered to the shop, we were simply too busy to afford leaving our posts—even if it was for the potential benefit of our sales.

Yet here I was getting asked to do just that. Not that it was far, and I, of course, already knew there were no strawberries “out back.” It was the first place I checked when I realized we were out.

Not that I particularly blamed the woman—the brat was loud and demanding. It was clear he was used to getting what he wanted _when_ he wanted it, and unless she could convince him to order something else, he’d start to get even louder. It also seemed she wasn’t his mother, as he kept using her first name. Or, at least, that was the impression I had.

The child’s face was beet red, and strings of snot clung from his nose. I could practically see the shrieking that would soon come.

“Of course—I’ll go see,” seizing the opportunity, I took it, and left the front to wander within the depths of the shop. I didn’t want my eardrums popped from the tide that would soon come.

Fleeing as I was, I hadn’t exactly thought out what I would do until I arrived at the storage’s hallway. The fridge and its contents were just at the door to my right—

“Gonna quit?” Marcos’ voice floated behind me, warm and cheerful.

“Nah,” I turned to face him then, “Kid up front is going to pop soon—I thought I should run.”

“Mmm, I see,” the look on his eyes spoke miles of what he saw and didn’t see, “you have some time then?”

“Convince me,” I flashed him half a smile, turning away to step deeper into the hallway and closer to the fridge’s door, “after all, poor Kate…”

“We can be quick,” he hummed, taking a step towards me, the smile he flashed me full of mischief.

“C'mon then,” I urged him, tilting my head upwards to meet his lips full on.

His deft fingers moved quickly around the contours of my body, moving to my hips and grasping them, grinding his hardened member against my front. He split our bodies only enough to undo the button of my jeans, and slide their hem lower over my hips and thighs. His own button became undone in a matter of seconds, and soon enough he was pulling out his happy little friend downstairs.

More cautiously now, he boosted me up on his arms, pressing my back against the wall for support. I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, turning towards him for another kiss.

As we kissed he arranged our position to a more comfortable one, pushing me up until I hung over his dick, my feet hovering over the ground. I jerked towards at him, giving a little tug on his shirt when he hesitated, and he responded eagerly, pushing himself inside.

“You OK?” his voice was husky, his eyes glazed with lust.

I kissed him again, giving little jerks against his grip to test his hold on me. Once I was sure I would not easily slip from his grasp, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

“Hurry.”

He flashed a smile, then proceeded to grind me against the wall, thrusting so quickly and harshly I hardly had time to catch my breath. I grasped at him, feeling my whole body jerk and tremble as he moved, the wet slapping sound of our bodies colliding echoing in my ears. I leaned back against the wall, enjoying the sound of his eager grunts and little moans. His thrusts picked up in speed, slamming me against the wall harsher than I was prepared for, which made him pause. When I bounced against his lap, he continued moving, whispering something in Spanish I didn’t quite catch.

His orgasm shook his whole body, and he grasped at me so tightly I thought my bones would crack. When he released me, we slumped against each other, trying to calm our jagged breathing.

“Why are you out back anyway?” he did not pull away from me, but rather mumbled the words against my shoulder.

“Ingredients for the crepes.”

“Found any?”

I chuckled, “This right here.”

I felt him smile against the skin of my throat, “Just say I stuffed you full of batter if they want that.”

“No. This type of batter is for me.”

He pulled back just enough so I could see his grin, and then he pushed his lips towards mine, the bananas on his breath intoxicating.

Gently, he let me put my legs underneath me, making sure I was firmly on the floor before he released me. Being the gentleman he always was, before I could even ask, he was offering me a tissue, and I snatched it from his hands before he could say a word.

“Need help with that?” he was grinning.

“No, thanks. I’m full,” and before I allowed him to convince me a second course was necessary, I stepped around him and headed towards the counter, wondering how much time that tryst has taken. Surely not more than ten minutes, but even so, a long time for someone standing in line with a squabbling child.

And I haven’t even checked if strawberries had miraculously sprouted from within the depths of the fridges.


	2. Not for Sale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus and Marcos at your service.

Markus groaned as the force of Marcos’ hips made his own roll forward until his front rubbed against the shop’s counter. With a grunt, Marcos readjusted his grip on Markus, fingers lightly grasping at his hips before giving another of those thrusts that made prickles of warmth pour into Markus’ abdomen. One of Markus’ legs was half-boosted so his shoe found balance at the counter’s inner shelf, the other firmly planted on the floor as, with the help of Marcos’ firm hands, he managed to keep his balance and Marcos gained better access to Markus.

That was when the little jingle of a bell alerted Markus to someone’s presence. Putting his elbows under him, pushing up so his chest hung over the counter’s smooth surface, he looked up to see the new guest. Marcos paused, hesitated—he had stopped moving, but he was not pulling out by any means, in fact, Markus didn’t think he had any plans to.

The man’s eyes widened as he caught sight of them, and a slight shift in his expression told Markus that Marcos had flashed a sheepish grin at him. Whatever the case, Marcos bent at the waist, pressing his belly and chest against Markus to whisper at his ear—

“We don’t have to stop, do we?”

“Keep going,” Markus hissed back, half-turning to fix Marcos in his eye.

Marcos grinned down at him, adjusting his grip so his fingers were at either side of Markus’ hips, letting Markus’ shoe slip from the shelf to press flat against the floor. He gave an experimental thrust once more, then his fingers tightened, trying not to jolt Markus with his bucking hips.

By then the man stood before Markus, an eyebrow arched in a question he dare not ask. When Markus didn’t immediately respond, he spoke.

“You two must be rather close,” he commented, in a way that spoke of a heavy suggestion. Markus struggled to bite back a sarcastic smile.

Marcos, for his part grinned, a breathless “You could say that,” slipped past his lips, before he turned back to Markus with a deep thrust that made Markus stumble a step forward.

“Practically attached at the hip, I’d say.”

Markus grinned, pushing himself up, trying to straighten up as much as he could with a dick up his ass.

Marcos laughed, short and sweet, leaning forward until his lips rested on Markus’ shoulders. The short little jarring movements caused a groan to slip from Markus’ lips, something Marcos immediately picked up on. He tried mimicking the movement, giving slow little bucks before he gave a deeper thrust that nearly made Markus stumble once more.

“How may I help you then?” it was almost ridiculous to focus on his job in such a situation, but there was not much else Markus could do. Marcos was much too distracted to be of much help.

The man flashed a wicked grin, but whatever his thoughts, he merely said, “Cream cheese and strawberries—a crepe that is. Have that available?”

“Sure—” a hiss broke through Markus’ lips then, and the wave of sounds that threatened to form in his throat made him lift a hand to his mouth, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to cease the flow. Marcos gave that sudden, short little thrust again and Markus felt the little pinpricks of heat rise once more.

Markus half-turned to scowl at Marcos, readying a warning only to be met with Marcos’ laughing face. The short little movements sent even more heat to pool in Markus’ belly, and whatever words he had wanted to say were lost.

Trying to calm his heavy breathing, he turned to the customer, his whole body being jolted forward with Marcos’ newfound discovery.

The man looked amused as Markus turned to him, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“It’ll be up in a minute,” he said, “sit back and I’ll bring it over.”


	3. Bowling Pins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Markus and Marcos go bowling.

When the ball rolled from the shiny surface of the lane, and into the gutter on the side, Marcos clutched at his face and groaned in dismay.

I couldn’t help the smile that touched the corners of my lips.

“We only have five minutes left and not one solid point,” he groaned, flashing me a miserable look.

“I was under the impression that you had bowled before.”

He grimaced then, looking mournful.

“No, no. I just thought it’d be fun.”

“Is that why you made that bet?”

A brief smile flashed to his face then, and he looked away from me as he said: “Guess I didn’t think that one through.”

“Guess not.”

Turning away from him, I padded towards the ball return rack, pausing to look at the various weights on the balls. Carefully, I hoisted one of the smaller ones into my arms, only heading back to the approach once I made sure to have a firm hold on it. Marcos automatically stepped away, eyes fixed on me.

“Maybe we should use the nets,” his voice had dropped to nearly a whisper, eyes alight with mischief.

“You just want to bang,” I shot back.

“I heard the bathrooms here are really clean!”

I shook my head, biting back my smile so as to not encourage him, “We have a few more chances left.”

He looked like he wanted to protest, but a look from me made the words die in his throat. When he met my eyes, he offered me a nod.

I turned my eyes back to the lane, balancing the heavy round ball between my hands. I almost wanted to tell him to turn on the nets—after all, we _were_ about to finish. Might as well get some points in.

But in the end, it proved too much effort, so I drew my arm back and let the ball roll across the midlane. It curved away from the gutter, veering towards the left, where it somehow knocked out three pins—barely. Another pin wobbled dangerously before it, too, fell.

I stared stupidly at the lane for the next few heartbeats.

Suddenly, Marcos’ arms were around me, squeezing me tight, and pressing his lips against the side of my throat. He was laughing, delighted, and shooting off half a hundred words in Spanish that I only vaguely understood. From his tone of voice, he sounded extremely pleased.

Well, I guess we did score.

I managed to calm him, but he continued chattering, still flicking from language to language in his excitement. When I tried telling him I didn’t understand, he looked embarrassed, and the influx of Spanish ceased.

The rest passed in a blur. I don’t even remember having returned our stupid shoes or exiting the bowling center, but suddenly I felt the cold night air on my face, and the soft murmur of the sea not far off.

“You’re my hero,” Marcos said with a crooked grin, his accent oddly thick.

“This means you owe me a treat,” I reminded him.

“Of course,” he smiled down at me, “that was never up for negotiation.”

With a small joke every now and then, and a dramatic retelling of my noble exploits down at the bowling lane, Marcos excitedly let me back to the car, twice declaring me the champion of the bowling alley. I didn’t have the heart to admit to him four pins were hardly a victory.

He opened the passenger door for me with a flourish, bending at the waist and waving his arm in a smooth arc. If it wasn’t because I was used to his clowning, I might have kicked him—his head was low enough so I didn’t have to strain _that_ much.

With a brief warning, he shut the door behind me, leaping over the hood of the car to his own door. Of course, this being Marcos, he tripped as he landed and nearly rammed into the car next to us. He threw his arms out just in time, stopping before he left a dent in the car with his thick skull. Sticking to his smooth recovery, he stumbled to his feet and nearly dropped his keys in his haste to open the door.

I looked away so he could not see my amused smile.

In due time he managed to start the car and get the air conditioner to cool us. We waited like that, breathing in the cool air, not speaking a single word. And as suddenly as my victory in the lane this night, we both turned towards each other and started making out like stupid horny teenagers.

Hey—if Marcos had picked up on anything during work hours was my weakness for any dish with bananas. I had no idea where he picked up _banana_ breath mints, but he _did_ come well-equipped with them.

I wasn’t aware when exactly he climbed on the passenger seat, straddling me, nor was I quite sure when exactly he lost his shirt, but when I came back to myself was when Marcos pushed the seat back so I lay down nearly horizontal. Eagerly, his hands went to the hems of my jeans, and I suddenly lost track of what was going on again until I felt Marcos’ eager erection pressing against my ass, slick with lube as it was.

“Is this my treat, or yours?” my voice was hoarse when I spoke up.

He smiled, “I can treat you all you want later too.”

I interrupted his words with my lips, and he moved his hips slightly against me.

When he broke the kiss it was to hiss a quick, “My place or yours?”

I frowned, “Later,” and dragged his face back towards mine.

He gave a few slow thrusts until he made sure I was comfortable. A few questions to make sure I was prepared—a habit of his. He tended to ask two or three times before finally responding in kind. Then he hurried his thrusts, rolling his hips to grind inside me, dragging groans from my lips. He hurried his pace then, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, trying to angle myself so he could move easier.

The last few thrusts made heat pool to my abdomen, and I bit my lip to stop the flow of noises. Marcos moved, muscles bunching under my arms. I held tighter onto him, only releasing my hold over his shoulders when his muscles relaxed.

We held on to each other, Marcos panting heavily as he trailed kisses from the side of my face to my throat.

“You good?” his accent was so thick then I hardly understood his words, but I nodded anyway.

He hummed in delight, hugging me tighter before letting go, pulling away just enough so I could catch his wide grin.

“Your place or mine?” he insisted.

“The oil is in yours, unless you want to stop to buy another—”

“Mine then!” he sounded extremely pleased as he bounced back to the driver’s seat, not even bothering with his pants until he made sure I straightened up.

As he tucked his dick back in its cage, I pushed my shirt down from my armpits—I wasn’t sure when exactly had Marcos decided to ravish my skin, but the skin felt numb and moist with licks. I was even surprised to see there was cum dribbling from the tip of my—

Now that was a rare sight. I hadn’t even noticed.

Popping open the glove box, I searched for a few napkins, setting to work before the cum stained my clothes.

“Where’s my shirt?” Marcos’ voice floated up both confused and alarmed.

“Drive without it,” I suggested, flashing a small smile.

He smiled back, shaking his head, “Are you trying to abuse the deal?”

“Me?” I made my voice drip with mock alarm, placing a hand to my chest, “no, never. I wouldn’t dare.”

Chuckling, Marcos turned his eyes to the dash, “And everyone told me you were so quiet and unassuming.”


	4. Hats

He was only roused by the power of his own self, lifting his head from Marcos’ chest and blinking sleepily about the room.

As he slid from the bed to dress, Marcos woke; hair a halo about his face, his sleepy smile so charming Markus wanted to spit on him.

“Where ya going?” he slurred.

“Work,” Markus said with a sigh, “gotta pay the bills somehow.”

Marcos looked like he wanted to protest, but in the end gave a long weary sigh, and said: “I’ll drop you off.”

Markus offered him a small smile then—a little flash of gratitude. “You don’t have to get dressed.”

Marcos snorted, “Yeah, yeah,” and with those choice words, pushed himself off the bed and started to rummage for his own clothes.

\--------------------------

“That hat looks ridiculous,” I said, wrapping his jacket tighter around my form.

I had stayed over at Marcos’ place, not expecting for snow to be an issue. It turned out I was mistaken, and now I was left wearing Marcos’ oversized jacket as we huddled in his room. Whilst searching for clothes, he had found a Santa hat. Marcos being Marcos, this meant he had squealed like a joyous pig upon its discovery then proceeded to shove it over his head.

“Christmas,” was all he said as he sunk down to my side, attempting to wrap his arms around me.

“You’re wearing a green shirt—it doesn’t even match.”

“Then you wear it,” and I gave up protesting. With a pleased sigh, he dragged me to his lap, his nose skimming against the flesh of my neck.

“I won’t.”

“Mmk, then I’ll wear it.”

It wasn’t even _December_ I wanted to say, but I let it drop. Marcos wouldn’t listen to reason.

“Can you drop me off at home then?”

“Sure,” he hummed, “but I was wondering if first we could...”

Here we go.

“I’m not fucking you with that hat on.”

“Awww, c’mon.”

\--------------------------

If I could describe Markus with one word—

It would be stubborn.

Or so I could only think as I watched as he sat atop the bed, cross-legged, with that cold look to his eyes that could only mean he was getting his way or he would give nothing.

So with a sigh, and a small smile I gave him what he wanted—

“Fine. You can be the big spoon. Scoot over.”


	5. Turns

It was one of those moments that knocked his breath away—Marcos’ lips and tongue dancing along his skin, sending trickles of heat to pool at every crevice, and spread until all his nerves tingled with the sensation. When he opened his mouth, it was only to gasp breath after labored breath, because under Marcos’ deft fingers, he couldn’t help but feel a kind of comfort. Maybe it was because of that comfort that he could surrender himself so easily to the caresses and the touches, and feel his body responding to Marcos—maybe it was because he could respond to Marcos that he felt such comfort. Whatever the case, it did not change the facts—he felt more at ease with Marcos that he had in a long while. 

Sometimes he thought it reminded him of Jo—sweet and cheerful Jo, with his excited little yips and smiles, but Marcos and Jo were different. Both were wrought from the same basic fiber that rung in Markus, but where Jo had been high strung and unabashed, Marcos was more playful and careful. Both of them were, or had been, a delight to be around, but for different reasons. It made Markus wonder, when he lay in bed in Kay’s home, what would it have been like if the two met. He did not think he would’ve parted from Jo, but they certainly could’ve grown to be fast friends. Markus didn’t know for sure, but he liked to think that Jo would have liked Marcos too.

Then Marcos started those little rolling thrusts that set Markus’ world afire, whatever thought he had, ceased. Under the careful ministrations, he felt Marcos roll him under wave and waves of tingling sensations that left sharp prickles of heat to blossom under his skin. He wanted to tell Marcos something then—even if it had just been a little joke, but the gag between his lips stopped any sound except for a series of groaned noises. His hands were tied over his head—the rope around his wrists taut, but not bruising. Marcos had been careful to allow Markus’ wrist the wiggle room they’d need to avoid chafing.

Marcos’ bed was entirely too comfortable to meditate such thought. Markus liked it—sleeping on it, at least, not that Marcos ever had any intention of allowing him his rest. In this, he was adamant. He did not believe in wasting time, and although he enjoyed cuddling with Markus, he wanted to enjoy every bit Markus had to offer too. A task that became difficult when Markus wanted to sleep, chest-down, with his jaw cracked open and his drool pooling beneath his face and over the plush pillows.

So they fucked first, rested later. Markus was used to it, but never with such a nice bed beneath his back. Several times he had wanted to hiss curses at Marcos for having such a nice bed—demand to know from what accursed store he had obtained it, but he never did. The comfortable bed would give him an excuse to keep coming back, at least, and for now, he wanted to.

“Someone give you a math problem?” Marcos chuckled, lips hovering over Markus’ cheeks and neck.

Markus groaned against the gag, pressing the side of his face against Marcos’. Marcos chuckled in response.

Carefully, Marcos slipped his fingers between Markus’ gag and his skin, slipping the thread free until the gag hung over Markus’ necks. Dragging in deep breaths, Markus struggled to lean against Marcos, eyes half closed.

“You’re a lazy fuck tonight,” he hissed at Marcos.

Marcos chuckled once more, “I finally have you tied down—who knows when it’ll happen again.”

“Never unless you hurry and finish up,” and to show he meant business, Markus trashed against the ropes, sliding his hips closer to Marcos, feeling himself slide lower along Marcos’ length.

Marcos hissed, turning away from Markus to thrust against him, more hurried now, with more force behind each movement so that the bed creaked under them. He grew more and more frantic as Markus’ groans became louder and soon enough, the noises that slipped from their lips melded into each other until it was impossible to tell their voices apart.

The rolling thrusts made Markus flinch against Marcos, struggling to press himself closer—even the slightest bit, so he could feel more of that sweet tingling sensation. The hips worked against Markus, never relenting until the climax came, and Marcos’s release shook his whole body, driving Markus near the edge, but not quite getting there.

Marcos lay atop of Markus, panting, eyes half closed, arms wrapped around Markus. With little choice, Markus allowed him to rest, trying to control the urge to buck his hips against Marcos to score his hardened member against any flesh—anything would do right at that moment, he simply needed more of that sweet tingling heat.

Once his racing heart calmed, Marcos set about untying Markus, fingers releasing knots just as easily as they had roamed Markus’ body. Once Markus lay free from the ropes, Marcos sat back on the bed, eyes glazed, and the stupidest grin Markus had ever seen on his life hanging over his lips.

“You need help with that?” he asked Markus, eyes fixed on Markus’ erect member.

Markus frowned, feeling a smirk threaten to curl his lips upwards.

“I guess,” he hummed, urging Marcos forward. Marcos was eager, pushing his lips against Markus’, hands slipping around Markus’ member.

And just when he let his guard down, Markus wrapped his legs around Marcos’ waist, pinning him down, and dragging him towards the bed. Startled, Marcos did not even protest when Markus flipped him on his stomach. He did nothing more than a surprised little squeak when the ropes that had been around Markus’ wrists went around his own. 

Markus placed a kiss on Marcos’ shoulder, trying to ignore the stupid grin that flashed through Marcos’ lips.

“It’s my turn,” he said, voice husky.

Marcos’ grin widened, and before he could respond, Markus ripped the gag from his throat, and wound it around Marcos’ head, trying to be careful as he tightened it. Once the gag was in place, he gave Marcos another kiss, pressing his erect member against Marcos’ back and ass.

“I won’t be able to focus with that stupid grin of yours,” he scolded, already moving away from Marcos so he could hunt for the lubricant.


	6. Cowboy

“My job’s to fuck, and you’re making me fuck you before I go.”

It was meant as a joke, but I immediately felt his muscles stiffen underneath me. A heartbeat later, he pulled away from me, his eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“Sorry,” and he honestly did sound apologetic. 

Before I could say another word, he leaned forward for a quick peck on the lips before leaning back against the seat. He avoided meeting my eyes like some sort of guilty, wounded puppy.

I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his, cupping his face, tilting his chin upwards.

“It was a joke,” I hummed, failing to bite back the smile that snuck its way into my lips.

“Oh,” his eyes widened, and his breath ceased, “Oh!” he gasped, and I wasn’t sure how this guy made it through the morning without getting run over by a car.

He flashed a big smile then, “You’re always so serious, I can’t tell when you’re...”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

His smile was sheepish now, and I had to admit that despite the fact that he was a big doofus, he was a cute one.

“We’re still going cowboy then?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be cowgirl?”

“You’re a boy though...” and he cast his glance down to look at my crotch, “got a peepee and everything.”

I rolled my eyes, “Just take off your pants.”

“Yes, sir.”


	7. Petplay

The whimpers of a puppy.

A nudge of my fingers.

The sensation of a wet tongue coating the digits with saliva.

I scowled, “Mar_cos_.”

From his position on all-fours on the floor, he grinned, craning his head to look at me.

“Pet me,” he said, then proceeded to butt his head against my leg. To humor him, I reached down and ran my fingers along the black curls, telling myself that this would soon be over. My turn for freedom was just around the corner.

“You’d make a terrible dog,” I told him as I opened the cash register.

“Nah, you’d love me. I’d sit by your feet and keep your toes warm, then you’d pet me and I’d have nice fur.”

“You have this all figured out, don’t you?”

“Yup!” and he didn’t even sound the least bit embarrassed. “You’d like having me around, I’d be warm, fluffy, and non-judgmental.”

I had to stop counting bills to stare down at him.

He stared back, unabashed.

“You’re an odd one,” I finally said, but it only made him grin.

“Can I be your dog then?”

“_No._”

\--------------------------

He lay on his belly on the bed, peering at me from under his bangs with bright, playful eyes. He was, of course, completely naked, save for a beautiful collar with a design of peacock feathers wrapped tight around his throat.

I couldn’t believe I was going for this.

Wary of hurting him, I gave the leash a small tug, peering carefully at his expression to make sure he wasn’t in pain.

Marcos grinned at me, pushing himself up to all fours and crawling towards me. Once we were close enough to kiss, he licked my lips and flopped down on my lap.

“Is this the part where you doggy-bang me.”

As if I was the one wrong for judging, Marcos turned his eyes towards me and stared.

“Am I supposed to bark?”

He smiled, shifting his position to nuzzle my stomach. He paused, hesitated, then licked my stomach. He continued his course until he reached my chest, then with a nudge, he urged me to lay back on his incredibly comfy bed.

He licked my chest and throat, nibbling lightly on the skin with playful little growls. Once he reached my face, he kissed me—deep and sweet, the taste of bananas tingling on the tip of my tongue.

“Skilled dog,” I gasped once the kiss was broken.

Marcos groaned, setting his teeth against my lip. We were in for a long night.

I wasn’t sure how I found this a turn-on, but I did.

My dick was hard as Marcos slammed into me, his hands struggling to grasp my sides for balance. Because he insisted on fucking me like a dog, he did not grasp my hips or waist, making for awkward points where we joined.

He groaned and growled at my ear, biting and licking playfully against the skin. Sometimes he’d try biting hard, and that was when I made use of the leash. Giving it a slight yank to get his attention would get him to stop the biting. It would also make him change the pace of his thrusts. Rather well-trained dog if you asked me.

And at some point between the yanks and the thrusts, I felt blood rush to my member and heat to pool into my stomach. I hissed at Marcos to touch, but he only growled and groaned like the useless mutt he was, so I was left to my own devices there, and I really couldn’t be bothered.

Not only were Marcos’ deep thrusts making my balance precarious, but he was also heavier than I was. I was half-afraid that if I shifted my arms just the slightest degree, he’d end up fucking me into the pillows.

“Marcos,” I moaned, giving his leash a little yank.

He grunted, snuffling at my ear, forcing me to grit my teeth. 

“You’re being mean,” I finally whined, trying to play with the angle of my hips. Maybe if I tilted my ass upwards I could rub against the bed—

And that was when rough warm fingers wrapped around my throbbing dick. He scored a lick along my cheek, as he tugged at me, trying to match his hand with the rhythm his hips had set.

“Good dog,” I gasped, relishing in the sensation

Marcos licked my fingers, his wet tongue gliding between the digits. I stared as he went about his work, and when I pulled my hand lightly away, he whined.

“Useless mutt,” I hissed, pulling him towards me so I could press my lips against his.

He responded eagerly, licking my lips and pressing himself against me. When I tried pull away from him to catch my breath, he set his teeth against my bottom lip and growled playfully.

“Off,” I mumbled, giving a slight yank to his leash. Still growling, he complied. When he pulled away, there was a stupid grin playing over his lips.

“You’re a smug little thing,” I hummed, running my fingers through his hair, and pulling myself closer to him for another kiss.

He whined against my lips, eagerly pulling me towards him. When we were crushed together, he released me, setting his head on my chest, and wrapping his arms around my waist.

“Who wouldn’t be with you here?” he said softly, closing his eyes and holding me close.


End file.
